The Mind Flip
by trek-grrrl
Summary: Xover of a sorts, Rocky Horror Picture Show. Bill Maxwell sees RHPS and is haunted by strange erotic dreams. It all comes to a head when he gets the video. Will he dream it? Or be it? Mildly slashy, het too.
1. Chapter 1

The Mind Flip  
Author: stanford9  
Summary: Rocky Horror Picture Show/Greatest American Hero Crossover (of sorts). After seeing RHPS with Ralph and Pam, Bill's having the most erotically wild dreams of his life, night after night. When he gets his hands on a copy of the video, it all comes crashing in on him. Does he dream it? Or will he be it?  
Rating: M (16+)  
Pairing(s): I can't tell you, ha ha ha ha  
Feedback: A review and rating would rock.  
Characters: See "Your Cast of Characters"  
Betas: Kos  
Author's notes: It's not so much a crossover as a nod to Richard O'Brien and his masterpiece "The Rocky Horror Picture Show." DISCLAIMER: I own nothing to do with Greatest American Hero or Rocky Horror Picture Show, and absolutely no money is being made from writing this little "What if?" fantasy that Bill Maxwell's experiencing. Or is he?

"Don't dream it, be it." -- Dr. Frank N. Furter

Your Cast of Characters:

Frank N. Furter - William Maxwell  
Brad Majors - Ralph Hinkley  
Janet Weiss - Pamela Davidson  
Rocky (A Monster) - Anthony Villicana  
Riff Raff - Norman L. Carlisle  
Magenta - Alicia Hinkley  
Columbia - Rhonda Harris  
Eddie - Cyler Johnson  
A Transylvanian Party-goer - Paco Rodriguez

Bill Maxwell woke in a cold sweat, yelling into the quiet dark.

"Dammit!" Where the hell did that come from? Ever since the kid and the Counselor brought him to see that freaky movie, Rocky Horror Picture Show, Bill had been finding himself more and more preoccupied with it. The scenes would flash back to him as he was slipping into slumber, and he'd see Frank N. Furter, his minions and their hapless "guests," Brad and Janet.

With one odd twist: He himself would be attired as the sweet transvestite.

The follwowing day brought it all to a head. He was lost in a daze, daydreaming once again about the wildly erotic dream he'd had the night before, with Pam manifesting as Janet Weiss and, much to Bill's dismay, Ralph appearing as the tall, handsome Brad Majors. Taller than Ralph actually was, yes, but just as blond and lean and...

"Dammit," he muttered.

"What?" Carlisle's curt voice cut in.

Maxwell started, and looked up to see his boss staring down at him, a file in his hand.

A florid blush moved up Bill's smooth neck and cheeks and he stuttered, "Oh, nothin' boss, what's up?"

"Here, you just earned this. Illegal copyrighting ring. Buncha guys capitalizing on the video market, selling bootlegs. It's all in there."

It was an easy bust, not even worthy of telling Ralph about. Bill got some juniors and brought them along.

The FBI evidence van pulled up a couple of hours after Bill and his young team had returned to the office. Bill went to Carlisle with an idea.

"Hey, boss, I was wondering, I think we can figure some stuff out on these bozos from looking at the evidence. Y'know, profile 'em, nail the head honcho or somethin'."

"Sure, whatever, Maxwell," Carlisle said, looking at his computer terminal. A bulletin had just come over the 'net from Interpol, and he couldn't be bothered with petty video bootleggers.

"Here, sign this, so I can get some outta Properties," Bill said sharply, hoping Carlisle would continue to be distracted.

His boss obliged him, barely looking at the chit, and Bill melted into the woodwork. A small frown crossed Carlisle's face as he realized he just trusted Bill about something, but the info on the wire was too fascinating to keep him thinking about the special agent for long.

Now in the early morning hours, Bill was lying on his Murphy bed, his sheets soaked from the powerful dream he'd had, after watching that video of Rocky Horror Picture Show a few times over.

"I can't believe this," he whispered aloud. He lay on his back, his hands folded on his chest, and watched the ceiling fan wiggle and bounce around and around and...

A line from the movie worked its way into his thoughts... "I've been making a man... with blond hair and a tan, and he's good for relieving my... tension."

When Bill closed his eyes, it was as if he was watching the movie again, except this time it was Ralph poised on that huge four-poster bed, on his stomach, his arms and legs splayed out and held tight by leather bindings. He was wearing nothing but gold-lame briefs, that left nothing to the imagination.

Bill gasped and jumped off the bed, panting, the sweat cold and clammy on his neck as it slid off his face.

"Ralph..." he whispered out loud. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, envisioning his young best friend as he usually saw him: attired in a casual jacket, nice jeans, an oxford-cloth shirt with a usually-tasteful tie. This image segued into Ralph in his red suit, the jammies, and again he looked perfectly normal to Bill.

He thought of the times that he and Ralph were close, not only emotionally as they'd become, but physically close to one another. Ralph lifting Bill effortlessly onto his back and taking flight. Bill catching Ralph as his young friend was flung from "the Black," his back and chest covered in welts. The wounded Ralph clinging tenderly to his best friend as Bill drove him to the hospital. Ralph clutching Bill's hand so his partner could see what he was seeing via the red suit.

Bill shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts of those images. He went to his small kitchen and rummaged around till he found a half-full whiskey bottle. He didn't normally indulge, but sometimes he needed a shot or two down the throat to get his roiling mind to settle down. He gulped the powerful brew in two shots, then poured a third and wandered aimlessly back into the living area of his bachelor apartment.

He looked down at the video tape he'd "borrowed" from the Bureau, wondering if he could... or should... view it yet again.

It didn't take the alcohol long to hit him; he hadn't eaten in several hours. He threw his overshirt off that he'd lain in, and picked up the tape. Sure, why not?

He relaxed on his bed, on his side, watching the TV across the room. The movie was pretty awful, he knew; not just the quality of the bootleg copy, but the movie itself. Definitely B-grade. Yet it had grabbed the attention and imagination of the younger generation, and when he, Ralph and Pam had gone to see it at midnight last Saturday night, they could barely tell what was going on with the audience screaming and laughing throughout.

"It's what they do, Bill," Ralph had yelled into his ear. "It's got quite a cult following now. You need to see it over and over again before you finally get the gist of what's going on!"

Bill simply nodded, because it had gotten so loud with the music, singing and yelling audience, that all he could do was take in the visuals of the film itself. The big room on the screen was filled with all manner of party-goers, and then a single pair of feet... platform soles, sparkling, stomping up and down.

The driving rhythm mesmerized Bill. It was such an odd movie, such a hectic environment both on-screen and in the audience, that all he could do was sit back and gawk at what would happen next, and then... he saw him.

Frank N. Furter. Scientist, mad doctor, and one of the most bizarrely dressed characters Bill had ever laid eyes on.

When the good doctor flung his black wrap off, Bill reacted in a most uncomfortable way. He glanced nervously at Ralph first, then Pam. The expressions on his young friends' faces were of delightfully bad mischief as Frank N. Furter pranced up to a stage, reclining on a throne, his devoted followers surrounding him.

The light in Ralph's eyes held Bill's gaze for a moment; his friend didn't even know he was staring at him.

Bill's eyelids began drooping as the movie droned on. Now that he could watch it undisturbed, no young kids yelling obscenities and lines and throwing toast and meatloafs, it lulled him to sleep. It IS a boring movie, he thought sleepily, 'cept for those few key scenes.

He huffed into his pillow. Yeah, that I can't seem to stop thinking about.

The whiskey had done its work, and Bill began to drift away, the sound of Frankie, Eddie, Columbia and the rest of the cast sliding into his brain.

Ralph Hinkley gasped violently and sat up in bed, his eyes wide open, staring into the nothingness of dark.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, shaking his head. What was that?

"Bill?" he said aloud, looking around. He could've sworn he heard his best friend call his name. He looked toward the partly-opened bedroom door, listening for any movement. Bill had a key to his house and would come in during the middle of the night, if there was some crazy new "scenario" to work out, waking Ralph (and sometimes Pam) up.

"Bill!" he said louder. No reply.

Something didn't feel right. Ralph couldn't pinpoint it or quantify it; it was a feeling in his gut and groin, something to do with Bill.

The mere thought of Bill being in danger made Ralph jump out of bed and grab the box holding his suit. He quickly changed into it, having mastered the technique of changing within seconds.

He opened the closet door a little further, and stared at the flat surface, "homing in" on Bill for a holograph.

He gasped again when the image coming from Bill hit him.

"What the...?" he whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two.

Ralph Hinkley got to the door of Bill Maxwell's apartment, and stood there silently, his ear cocked, to listen for any trouble from within. He heard a moaning, and grabbed the handle, forcing it to turn with his suit-enhanced strength.

"Bill!" he said, entering the dark, quiet little studio.

His best friend was lying on his side, eyes closed, unaware of Ralph's presence.

Realizing Bill was deep in sleep, Ralph went to him and looked him over, to assure himself that his friend was unharmed.

He kneeled down, his face only inches away from Bill's, and saw the rapid eye movement under the lids, indicating a dream state.

"Bill?" Ralph whispered, to see if Bill would stir. The older man remained as he was, eyes moving back and forth. After a moment, as if subconsciously detecting Ralph's presence, he rolled in his sleep, partly onto his tummy, his left leg hiked up, his arms clutching the pillow.

He's out of it, Ralph thought, smiling at Bill. Curious as to what might happen, Ralph gently touched a bare shoulder, and gasped once more as the images hit him. When he saw them earlier, he wasn't sure if what he was seeing was what Bill may have been watching, or if Bill was thinking or dreaming the images. Now Ralph knew.

He's dreaming it! he thought, surprised at what he was "seeing."

Not only the visuals, but the overall sensations as well, poured into Ralph. He was overwhelmed, stunned, amazed and, disturbingly enough, excited by what was going on in both their minds.

Again using the enhanced strength, he very gently lifted Bill partway and scooched him over on the double-bed, and laid down beside him. He continued to stare at Bill's face, his friend's mouth only centimeters away.

Oh man, Ralph thought, his hand back on Bill's shoulder. Ralph ran his fingers down the length of the long arm, ending at the hand. He clutched the hand to him, relaxing his arm against the blanket, and closed his eyes so he could share the full techni-colored show that was Bill's erotic dream.

Ralph was living the dream, seeing it, feeling it, but watching it as if in the movie theater. He'd had such dreams before, so it didn't disturb him. He wasn't used to the intense color and sharpness, the clarity of it all, however. His normal dreams tended to be hazy and often not remembered. The fact he was getting such sensations courtesy of Bill Maxwell didn't surprise him. He knew for all his abruptness and seeming denseness, his older friend had a brilliant and sharp mind, and that was manifesting via his subconscious. Ralph decided he would just relax and meld into the experience, fully awake and conscious and enjoying every second of it.

Now, if only he doesn't wake up, Ralph thought, smiling in the dark. He could only imagine Bill's shock at opening his eyes to see Ralph's face poised so close to his own, while clutching his hand to him.

The action of the dream seemed to be on fast-forward, as "Columbia" and "Magenta" stripped "Brad" and "Janet" of their clothes. Ralph chuckled quietly. The two strangely-clad women were manifesting as Rhonda and, to his amazement, his ex-wife Alicia. Figures Alicia would be that bitch in the movie, he thought, silently thanking Bill for being so astute, even in his subconscious thoughts. Ralph was appearing as Brad Majors, taller than he really was, but blond and slender, with dark glasses and boring beige slacks. Bill had obliged by having Janet Weiss appear as Ralph's girlfriend Pam Davidson.

Within seconds, the two were standing amidst the strange party-goers in nothing but their underclothes.

Ralph looked around at the Transylvanians, and spied Paco amongst them, wearing a silk tuxedo, strange pimpin' hat and make-up.

Damn, Bill, Ralph thought with amusement. You've got everyone here!

The dream metamorphosed to another scene, and Ralph sensed the tension, electric and sexual, coming from his best friend. He reacted as well, instinctively, without thought, as the shock hit him: coming down the elevator was a tall figure, clad in black silk and wearing silvery, sparkly platform shoes. A whisper of a fishnet-clad calf peeked out from under the long cloak as a foot stomped up and down to the beat of the music resounding in the big room. Columbia and the Transylvanians were smiling with glee and anticipation. Brad and Janet were too stunned by what was happening to heed what had drawn everyone's attention.

Knowing the movie as he did, Ralph knew what was coming... and then HE was there: his best friend, Bill Maxwell, flinging the cloak off to reveal a black, skintight leather bodice, shimmery black bikini briefs, fishnet stockings, incredibly high platform soles and a huge fake pearl choker. And make-up. And curly hair. Fiery green-brown eyes stared at Brad, drilling into his very soul, and Ralph felt it as well, seeing himself as Brad, feeling what Brad was feeling.

"Oh my gawd," Ralph gasped. 


	3. Chapter 3

Note: Narrative is Bill, Pam, Ralph, et al; spoken dialogue is Frankie, Janet, Brad, et al! 

Chapter Three.

The green-brown eyes of Bill Maxwell, cleverly disguised in the dream as Dr. Frank N. Furter, held Ralph riveted as the man moved closer to the ersatz Brad Majors. Ralph shook his head as he lay at Bill's side, facing him, trying to process the input from two different quarters: his own perception, and that of himself as Brad.

He was tall in this dream, much taller than he naturally was, but with platform soles and already six feet and two inches tall, Bill was taller by four inches. His older best friend looked "down" at Brad, as the younger partner sensed it. He froze, like a deer caught in the headlights, and Ralph did as well, holding his breath, afraid of what would happen if he moved a muscle.

He wasn't so much afraid that Bill would wake up, but how he, himself, would react physically to the images pouring into him from Bill.

As that mouth, those eyes, moved closer, closer, holding him trapped, the muscles in Ralph's gut and groin tightened, sending shivers up his spine. He folded over, moving his legs closer to Bill's, his foot dragging on his best friend's lower leg.

Ralph moved as Brad in the dream now, fully connected to this doppleganger. He couldn't breathe, he could barely move; he shifted back and forth on his feet, as if trying to find an escape route. Magenta and Riff Raff, whom Ralph was amused to see was manifesting as Bill's boss Carlisle, stood on both sides of him and Pam.

Frankie moved a swagger stick over Brad's Adams Apple, down the midline of his chest to below his navel, paused a moment, staring down, and returned to holding his gaze.

"I've been making a man... with blond hair and a tan..." Frankie looked at his minions and smirked, then turned back to Brad. "And he's good for relieving my..."

He paused a moment, then more moments, so long that Brad and Janet moved forward, as if encouraging him to continue.

"Tension," Frankie whispered in a sultry voice. When Janet jumped, startled, the Doctor turned to her and smirked, and commented about her LOVELY underclothes.

The sight of Frankie strutting away, his long legs outpacing his followers, thrilled Ralph deep into his soul. Holy shit, Ralph thought. He couldn't think of any better way to express what he was seeing: Bill Maxwell, shaking his rear end so wantonly, moving his strong shoulders to enhance the wiggle of his hips.

Now I've seen it all.

A bit of a time slip, and Ralph's in a pink room, a huge four-poster bed in the middle, encased in filmy curtains.

Bill Maxwell, as Frank N. Furter, comes in wearing beige slacks, dark-rimmed glasses and a short-haired brown wig. He sidles up to the bed, where there's a figure lying prone, dozing.

Bill softly parts the curtain, sitting gently on the side of the bed, and the figure wakes up. Pam appears as Janet Weiss once more, wearing a slip, stockings, white bra and white panties.

"Oh, Brad," she says, when she realizes who's with her. She is a virgin, believing it is best for them to wait till they've taken their vows, but tonight of all nights she is full of fear, trepidation, and to her disgust, curiosity about this bizarre castle of weirdos.

"Janet," a deep voice replies, and without preamble, Bill moves his long arms and torso over her, his mouth latching on to her long soft neck. The abrupt motion from her fiancee makes Pam laugh with delight for a moment, before she realizes what he has in mind.

"Brad, we can't! Not here!" she exclaims.

"Oh, Janet, you know you want to," he murmurs against her, his tongue lashing up and down, from earlobe to breast and back again. A hand moves up to fondle her, slipping casually into her bra.

"Brad!" Pam squeals, moving back, looking around nervously. "Brad, please, they might have cameras!"

Bill moves completely onto the bed now, squatting on his knees, pauses a second and grabs Pam's legs, flinging them up and over his hips.

Pam has no time to squeal as Bill buries his face between her legs, teasing and taunting with his tongue and lips, reaching up to pull her stockings and panties out from under the slip.

The incredible feel of the soft tongue and pliant lips overrides any protests, and Pam collapses back on her pillow, moving her legs to accommodate her lover, her eyes close, her head falls back, and then...

"Brad!" she squeaks, reaching down, partly to encourage him to continue the marvelous tongue-work, partly to grab him to make him stop. When she grips his head, she is startled to realize it doesn't feel like her fiancee's hair at all. She panics, grabbing a handful, and gasps in terror as the hair falls off of his head.

She holds the wig in her hand as she sees Bill sit up and back, again squatting on his knees.

"YOU!" she screams, trying her best to move away.

Bill grabs her, pulling her back. "Yes, and isn't it FUN, Janet?" he laughs at her, eyeing her up and down, watching her full breasts bounce and jiggle in time with her ribs expanding and contracting.

He moves toward her, slowly, inexorably, as she fights panic but, at the same time, wants to slide into his sensual grasp.

"You," Pam says weakly, "you... I... I can't, I've never..." She can't continue; how does she tell this intriguing man that she is a virgin?

"Shhhh, Janet," he consoles her, sensing her fear, suddenly concerned for her and what is destined to be this night. "It's... not... so... bad, is it?" he says, kissing from her lips, down to her chin, her breasts, to her flat stomach, and back to his earlier position between her legs.

Pam submits to the inevitable, finally giving in to the urge to let this man have his way with her.

"Promise," she whispers, and gasps as his mouth laps at her moist inner flesh, "promise you won't tell Brad?"

Ralph squirmed, lying at Bill's side, at the image of his best friend going down on Pam, his own fiancee. His body had reacted completely to the vision, shocking Ralph, invoking so many confusing feelings and sensations in him he didn't know what to do, what to think.

"God, Bill," Ralph whispered, closing his eyes to revel in what he was seeing, what he was feeling. Is this something that's been there all along? he wondered. As much as he and Pam would like to think they were a modern young couple of the 80's, the idea of having a three-way, in real life, had never occured to him. Maybe Pam's thought of it, he couldn't help pondering. Maybe she's considered her and me and Bill... Oh my.

What really surprised him, deep into the core of his being, was that the idea of such an evening didn't disgust him. In fact, the more he thought on it, consciously, completely awake and faculties intact, the more he wanted to talk to Pam about making it come to fruition.

Then he'd have to convince Bill.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four.

Ralph, lying at Bill's side, holding his older partner's hand, knew the scene that was coming up next in the "movie." And knew he had to wake Bill up before it could get that far. It was bad enough watching Bill go down on Pam, let alone thinking of him going down on...

"Oh, God!" Ralph exclaimed, louder than he'd intended, as his body reacted instinctively to the thought, the image that came into his head.

Bill started in his sleep, moaning, and turned his head the other way. His arm didn't move, and Ralph retained the light hold on his partner's hand.

Ralph held his breath, not wanting to wake Bill just yet. The image of Bill, moving down, down to... STOP IT! Ralph screamed at himself in his mind.

That did it.

"What? Ralph!" Bill called out, pushing himself up in bed on his knees and hand, looking wildly around for any trouble threatening his young friend.

When Bill moved his left arm, Ralph's grasp held him in place.

"What the...? Ralph? What the hell are you doing here? Are you all right? I heard you scream 'STOP IT!' What's going on? What's wrong?"

Ralph fell back, still holding Bill's hand, and chuckled, looking up at his older partner and best friend, looming over him in the big bed in his boxers and green sleeveless undershirt. The pale light of the full moon beamed in, unsullied by any street lamps, giving Bill an almost-angelic glow.

Bill was silent, looking down at Ralph. He shook his head as if to clear it, not entirely sure if he was awake or dreaming. It had been so vivid, so real, and Ralph was lying here next to him, in the red jammies, holding his hand. Had he been holographing in on him? Were they linked up and thus sharing a dream at the same time, as they often shared holographs and precognitive visions?

"What, uh... what're you doing, Ralph? You been holographing on me?" Bill asked quietly, pointedly looking at Ralph holding his hand.

Ralph didn't answer for a few seconds, then smirked at Bill. "I was sleeping and I heard you call out to me, Bill. I was worried, I thought you'd used your key to come into my place, looking for me. When I realized you weren't there, I picked up distress or... something... off of you."

Bill gave a short sharp laugh. "Something, yeah. It's been something all right, since you and Pam brought me to that damned movie."

Ah, he called her Pam, Ralph thought. Maybe he's in a more open mood than I thought he was, not calling her the Counselor.

"Oh, you mean 'Janet'?"

"God, Ralph, not you too!" He looked again at the clasped hands.

Ralph wondered why Bill hadn't already pulled indignantly away from him, wondered why Bill allowed him to continue holding his hand.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Ralph asked quietly. Perhaps here, in the privacy of night, the room in shadowy blue of the Moon, would be the perfect place. Dark, secretive, something they could both pretend hadn't happened the next day.

Bill shuddered, and Ralph could tell he'd closed his eyes. He remained perched on his knees, his right arm hanging limp at his side.

"Bill," Ralph whispered. "It's me, your partner, your best friend. Talk to me. What's been going on? When I caught that feeling off you and holographed in on you, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I couldn't tell if you were dreaming it or watching it, that's why I came over."

"'Don't dream it, be it.'"

"Yes."

"Ralph, I... how much did you see?"

"Most of it, pard."

Bill was motionless, his usually expressive face blank. "And?"

"And this," Ralph said, gently pulling Bill down on top of him. He wrapped his arms around the older man's back, twining his shorter legs into Bill's longer ones.

"Ralph!" Bill said, his head falling to the pillow Ralph was leaning against. He moved his mouth against Ralph's ear.

"Oh, God, Ralph..." he whispered.

He couldn't continue. The full-body contact had re-connected the two, fully awake and aware of one another, not dreaming, only being. Being with one another.

Be it, Bill. Don't think, feel.

Did he think that? Or did Ralph? At this point, it didn't matter. All Bill knew was that he wanted to drown in that feeling of such gentle strength enfolding him. He was always the strong one, the leader, with "the kid" doing the dirty work. Now he could submit to that power, fully realizing what it was like, how it felt, to Ralph to have such an ability.

Bill moved his arms under Ralph's, pulling him closer yet, burying his face against the younger man's neck, pressing his mouth against it.

"Bill," Ralph whispered, twining his hand in Bill's thick hair.

"Just don't... gawd, I can't believe I'm saying this, Ralph. Just don't hurt me."

He both felt and heard his partner's delighted laughter, in his mind and under his heart, and their minds took that final plunge into one another as they discovered whole new aspects of their partnership and friendship they'd never considered before.

(A/N: I'll leave what happened from there to the reader's imagination.) 


End file.
